A Different Breed of Magic
by Fleoden
Summary: "Sometimes he laughs, and it's the scariest thing I've ever heard. It's scarier than Voldemort inside my head." Harry is haunted by dreams of a tall man in a top hat. From there he discovers that wizardry is not the only magic in the world, that there are others far older and far more mystifying. AU


"It happened again, Professor."

"The same dream?"

"Yes. Same dream, four nights in a row."

"I'm concerned, Harry. This sounds very familiar."

"I know, but I don't think it's him. As much as I hate to say it, I know what Voldemort feels like. This isn't him. I mean, I know that's what he'd want me to think, but still... I know they're different."

Blue eyes twinkled gently, thoughtful brows furrowed. "Tell me."

A sigh. "I have. We've been over it again, and again, and again. Nothing's changed."

"Maybe. The dreams, certainly. You, however, have. Maybe this new dream will show us something the others didn't."

"I've changed?"

"Every day. When you're ready, Harry."

A deep breath. "They're all there. Everyone Voldemort ever killed: that old man-Frank?- my parents, Cedric. They just stand there, and stare."

"That's all?"

"Were you expecting more? Something different between tonight and last night?"

"No. Where are you? Is it like my office, or the Great Hall, or outside?"

"I don't know. All I can see are them, and black. And then the light turns on, and there's a stage. And it's empty, at least at first."

"Empty?" A lifted brow.

A nod. "Yes. And then the music starts; drums, and a guitar. Then...they start dancing. They make a circle around me, and I can't leave."

"Have you tried?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

The rustle of a shirt being raised, the soft hiss of a pained breath. "This."

"My word. When did this happen?"

"Tonight. I tried to leave, and they stopped me. I woke up with these."

"I want to go to the Hospital Wing after this, Harry."

"Yes, sir."

"Go on. You said, 'the stage was empty, at least at first.' Who appears, and when?"

A shrug. "I don't know who he is, but he shows up after the music. He's waving his hands, like he's conducting it."

"Can you describe him?"

Black, flyaway hair shifts over a nodding head. "I can't forget him. He's tall, taller than everyone I know except maybe you and definitely Hagrid. But he's skinnier than Hagrid. He's dark like Kingsley, with a skull painted on his face. He wears a long jacketed suit and wears a top hat. He's got these sunglasses, and one of the lenses is missing. I can't get over that, for some reason. Why is only one lens missing?"

"I don't know. Does this man say anything? Anything that might help me identify him?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes. He says something, but it won't help."

"What does he say?"

"Soon."

"Soon? That's all?"

"Yes. Just, 'soon'. Sometimes he laughs, and it's the scariest thing I've ever heard. Scarier than Voldemort's voice in my head."

"Did he laugh tonight, Harry?"

"No." Green eyes behind glasses see a pile of books on a desk straining under the weight. "Have you found anything?"

"Not yet, my boy, but do not doubt that I will. As for now, I think, you'd best head to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey's expecting you. I have no doubt she'll make you stay the night."

A wry smile under eyes far too tired and old for a boy of fifteen. "Sounds like her, sir. " he hesitates at the door. "If you find anything, will you wake me up to tell me?"

"Of course." What's one more lie? "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Professor." A closing door, and a low musical cry.

"I know, my friend. I had hoped tonight might be different, but it seems that fate has no softness in her heart for Harry Potter."

Another cry.

"I only hope I can find some answers for him." A frustrated glance at the unhelpful book pile. An age wrinkled hand reached out and pulled one over, the spine cracking as it opened. "I've failed him far too many times, Fawkes. I'll not fail him in this."

In that moment, in the tired flames of the early morning fire, Albus Dumbledore felt every single one of his many long years. He rubbed his tired eyes, and got to work.

He read until the sun rose.


End file.
